Don't Let an Old Man Cry in Your Vagina

---For Jess

He had buttons crawling to his favorite hole
an old bench and a tree and light differentials
Wild Bill surrounded by wolves teeth and diner napkins
and he looks at a young girl having sex
floss shreds line her cheeks
brilliant lines of granules streaming

Picasso is a limp and three cups of ice
as a sexual object and as a mother
passes sweat through a flag
now he summons a bladelike beard
to make a toothy grin and a dreamy spark
I hate him
Picasso clenches his cleft punchline
knowing that beer is in snow and in soil

Dead holes and pieces of eyes
that is a definition of a girl in sounds
all the body parts at once pathetic and dirty
old bitten colors pushed in shapes over tiles
a frame to bite at partials

Of parallel mythomania
so I contend through his quasi-provable vagina
what a master of
skyscrapers,
liberal feminism,
vance gilbert,
old man sweaters,
and social conscience

Pablo Picasso is
a bedroom is outside and touches and is again
that which could excite only a silverfish